Callouses
by railise
Summary: Arthur's amnesia has apparently triggered a daydream of his. Set sometime between the end of 3x10 and the beginning of 3x12.


**Prompt:** "A/G. One of them gets amnesia."  
**A/N:** For **ag_fics** Team Fic Battle.

* * *

Camelot was in an uproar. Arthur was missing, had been for days, and they were no closer to finding him now than when he first disappeared. Whilst the knights combed the width and breadth of Camelot, Uther was meeting with every landholder in the kingdom, in case one of them had heard something from their peasants.

Merlin was passing the throne room, despondent and exhausted from aiding in the search efforts, when he caught the tail end of a peasant being turned away by the guards.

"I'm telling you, I can help!"

"And I'm telling you to talk to your lord, so he can tell the king. If you do not leave now, you'll be thrown in the dungeon," one of the guards snapped. "King's orders."

"Fine!" The man stepped back, flinging up his hands. "But you can't say I didn't try." As he spun around and marched down the corridor, Merlin heard him muttering under his breath. "...giving orders like that, the dollophead don't deserve to get his son back..."

Merlin caught the man's arm. "Do you know of Prince Arthur's whereabouts?"

The man stared at Merlin's grip on his sleeve, only speaking when Merlin dropped it. "I might do, but the king don't care 'cause I actually _work_ to put food on my family's table, instead of having it brought to me by-"

Whilst it was understandable, Merlin interrupted. "I care." The man eyed him, apparently undecided. Merlin held his gaze. "And I care about Arthur. And, I know what it means to work hard." He held out his hands, which were definitely not those of a pampered noble, to prove it. "Please, if you know anything that could help us find him, tell me."

After another minute of internal debate, the man nodded. "All right. I can do more than help you find him- I can take you straight to 'im. 'Least, I'm pretty sure it's him."

Merlin was willing to give it a try, but he still asked, "'Pretty sure'?"

"He don't know his name or aught- took a knock to the nut." The man rapped his knuckles against his head to demonstrate. "But, he talks all proper and looks like they say he looks like."

That would explain why there had not been any word from him. "Well, my name is Merlin, and I would appreciate if you would show me where Prince Arthur is." He stuck out his hand.

"All right, Merlin." The man shook his hand. "I'm Jory. My cart's waiting out by the gate."

"Give me a few minutes to pack a bag?"

Jory agreed to meet Merlin shortly, and Merlin rushed toward the physician's chambers- nearly bowling Gwen over when he went tearing around a corner.

Catching her arms to steady both of them, he exclaimed, "Sorry!"

"Merlin! Where on earth are you going in such a hurry?"

Since Jory had not been positive it was Arthur he was talking about, Merlin hesitated to say anything to Gwen. The shadows under her eyes spoke of having lost too much sleep, and the way distraction floated around her like a mist made her worry obvious. If this did not turn out to be Arthur, Merlin would hate to get her hopes up, only to be dashed. On the other hand, if it was Arthur and Merlin had said nothing, that would keep her in this state unnecessarily. Hesitantly, he said, "I... may have news about Arthur."

"How? Is he all right?"

Merlin winced and held up a hand. "It might not be him, Gwen. There's someone fitting his description, who's lost his memory. I'm going to see what's going on."

Gwen stepped back and stood straighter. "I'm going with you."

Merlin wondered if he should argue, then decided against it; although, one problem occurred to him. "How will you get leave from Morgana? I don't think we should tell her. You know, in case it's not Arthur." _Actually, in case it _is_ Arthur, because if he's lost his memory, that would be too much of an invitation for her to try something._ Not for the first time, he wished he could just be forthcoming about that whole situation, but knew it was impossible.

Gwen murmured her agreement. "I'll say... I've had word from a sick friend, and would like to go see to them. Her. I doubt Morgana will argue with that."

"All right. Pack quickly; we're meeting by the gate as soon as possible. A man called Jory's waiting."

Gwen nodded and hurried off, and Merlin did the same. He was disappointed to find that Gaius was out of his chambers, being that he definitely wanted advice about amnesia. However, he had to settle for leaving a brief note explaining his whereabouts, before shoving a bunch of things into his pack and heading for the stables to get horses readied for himself and Gwen. By the time he reached the gate, she was walking over from the direction of her house, clad in trousers suitable for riding and with a bag of her own.

Jory was slumped over in the front of his cart and snoring. "Jory?" Merlin nudged him. It took a few tries, but finally, their guide sat up with a series of grunts and snorts. Peering blearily at Gwen for a minute, he finally shrugged to himself.

"Right, then. This way."

He barely gave them time to mount up before clicking his horse into gear; it would seem that once he was awake, he was ready to move.

"Where are we going?" Gwen called over.

"This way," Jory repeated, as if that answered her question- and that was all he said for the duration of the ride, save for complimenting how quickly Gwen got the fire going when they stopped for lunch. Camping out that night was much the same, with Gwen and Merlin reluctant to converse too much when Jory was keeping himself to himself- even though they still had no idea where they were headed. They were aware of the general direction and would be able to find their way home, which was all that mattered.

Toward the end of the second day, a village came into view. "Here we are," Jory called, then promptly went quiet again until they rode into town. He pointed out a cottage that appeared to be in serious disrepair at the end of the road. "He's down there. And I hope he's yours, 'cause he don't know a milk stool from an udder. Don't think he'll last long on his own."

"Well, thank you for bringing us here," Gwen said. "We will see to it that you're amply rewarded."

He nodded. "That's good." With that, he turned his cart and moved off toward what was apparently his cottage. Merlin and Gwen exchanged an amused glance before continuing down the road.

"Oh, my," she said softly, as they neared the ramshackle cottage. Merlin's jaw dropped.

Arthur was digging the most crooked furrows either of them had ever seen, in what was apparently a garden. He was covered in dirt and not getting very far, and was visibly frustrated.

Dismounting at the portion of fence that was standing in front of the property, Gwen and Merlin picked their way over. "Arthur?" Gwen asked carefully.

When he first looked at them, it was with a confused blankness, but surprise suddenly washed over his face. "Guinevere!" He smiled happily. "Merlin." Glancing down at the spade in his hands, he pondered it for a minute, before taking in the whole, small farm. "What am I _doing?_"

"We were told you got hit on the head. Nobody knew who you were, yourself included," Merlin told him.

Arthur touched his head. "No, I think I understand that. I even remember setting this up. It's the 'why' I'm not clear on."

Gwen bit her lip, remembering his confession over their picnic those weeks earlier. "You're a farmer, Arthur."

He stared at her. Then, with a laugh as realization dawned, he admitted, "I am."

"And you're rubbish at it," Merlin decided, shaking his head.

Without warning, Arthur tossed the spade at him, which Merlin managed to bat away. "It's a good thing you're here to show me how it's done, isn't it?"

"That's not what I meant," Merlin muttered.

"I think it's time for you to be a prince again," Gwen smiled, slipping her hand into Arthur's. "Come on, let's get you back to Camelot."


End file.
